A Disastrous, Red Breakfast
by starbucks-addiction
Summary: Dan Humphrey decides to enjoy the refined dining experience on the Upper East Side, with none other than Blair Waldorf, of course! With the help of clumsy waiters, poor parents, and a purging Ice Queen, he may find out why brunches are so great, after all


**TITLE:** A Disastrous, Red Breakfast

**AUTHOR:** starbucks-addiction ( ;

**SUMMARY:** Dan Humphrey decides to enjoy the renfined dining experience on the Upper East Side, with none other than Blair Waldorf, of course! Crack Fic.ONESHOT

**RATING:** K +

**A/N:** Another one of those scenes running through my head aimlessy. I'll update my actual stories later, I promise! Oneshots are just so easy to write!

**A Disastrous, Red Breakfast**

One bright morning in the Palace hotel, waiters and kitchen staff were bustling, busy at work for another fine day at the restaurant. The head chef expected Chuck Bass to arrive, promptly at 9 AM, to sample the delicacies that were served in his father's hotel. However, no one was expecting even the oddest pair to show up; for who could've guessed Dan Humphrey, hailing from Brooklyn, would have enough pocket cash to lounge around the Upper East Side? And Blair Waldorf? For reasons unknown, she'd always avoided the Bass suite and everything within 2 kilometers in the early mornings, ever since the night of Victrola's opening.

_Hmmm, I wonder why?_

--

As the sun struck high noon, none other than Daniel Humphrey strolled through the front gates of the Palace Hotel, hands stuck in his scruffy pockets as if afraid the crumpled bills inside would suddenly jump out at any second. He timidly tapped the door with his foot, cautiously glancing side to side, then finally walking through the double glass entrance way. He made his way through the elegantly decorated lobby and hallways, arriving at the mahogany that signaled the fine dining area. Receiving a disapproving look from the person who stands at the podium (Dan couldn't remember for the life of him what the dude was called), he paid up, clenching the bills from his pocket. There was a prompt game of tug-of-war whilst he decided whether or not it was worth it, then, catching another nasty look from the Guy- Who- Stands- At- Podium All Freaking Day, he let go of the money.

--

Blair Waldorf sat in a table by the window, head cocked to the side, admiring the busy city life below. She had stepped into the Hotel, for it was the one place she could get away from the rumors, scandals, and lies... at least for a 8AM - 12 noon All- You- Can- Eat. Not that she ate much. Her thoughts were interrupted as a waiter pulled the other chair aside, allowing a rather shaken looking young man to sit on the upholstery.

"Dan," She hissed. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I didn't have enough for a full table," He admitted sheepishly.

"So they decided to park you here, while I'm having a peaceful, _refined_, breakfast?"

He nodded. "Something along those lines." The management had he though he could learn fine dining from the pro. He'd have never guessed "The Pro" herself was Blair Waldorf.

The waiter stuck his order pad in between their faces, ending the matter. "Would you two like anything to drink?"

Dan, not wanting to be rude, replied, "Water's fine, thanks," While Blair answered, "I'll have a glass of fresh cranberry juice."

"Right away." The waiter hurried away after scribbling on the pad of paper.

"Do you know how much that costs?" Dan asked rhetorically.

"8.99 plus tax." Blair answered without so much as glancing at the menu.

"Whatever..." Dan slumped down, trying very hard to look like he had the moola to have ordered that as well.

Shortly, the waiter returned with their drinks. "Our Breakfast Buffet is guaranteed to satisfy even the largest of appetites, today, for only 79.99 is morning! I'd highly recommend it."

Dan cringed. That much money could buy the food to feed his whole household for a month! Not including Rufus's many girlfriends. Apparently the Upper East Side had another currency system entirely. Nonetheless, he followed Blair to the buffet table.

The layout, Dan had to admit, was wonderful. Silver platters rested on a beautiful silk tablecloth, wrinkled in just the right places to create that "Five Star Buffet" look. He licked his lips. There was caviar, French sausages, supreme toast, fried bacon, creamy scrambled eggs, high- end butter rolls, imported jam, every type of yogurt imaginable, and...

"Why is there cold pizza?" muttered Dan.

Once he had loaded his plate with the most expensive foods, he followed Blair back to the table to find out she had heaped her dinner plate with toast, pancakes, and rather fatty sausages. Furthermore, she had taken the liberty of drowning them in strawberry jam. A towering stack of raspberry flavored yogurt sat next to her. Dan sat, feeling very foolish indeed. _I guess when they say All You Can Eat here, they mean it,_ He thought stupidly.

No sooner had he spooned the first bite of black caviar into his mouth, did Blair decide to uncross her legs, kicking the table and spilling her freshly squeezed cranberry juice on the linen tablecloth, staining it for all eternity. She covered the blood red splotch with her napkin and continued eating as if nothing had happened, calmly spooning more yogurt into her pink lipped mouth. Dan took it upon himself to set the glass right side up again.

In the middle of slurping his shark fin soup, Dan glanced at Blair over the top of his bowl. The Ice Queen was now playing with her dining utensils, namely, the fork and knife, pretending both were engaged in the dueling war with each other. The dinner plate was pushed to the side, empty except for a few crumbs and bread crusts. Blair made clash, bang, wham! noises as the fork and knife collided once more, imitating a battle scence with medieval swords. Dan watched in fascination as she re-enacted the great battle from Narnia.

She swung out her knife, preparing for the final blow with would render the fork useless, and swung-

As a passing waiter, balancing two plateful of eggs, walked briskly by.

There was a loud BANG (sound effects courtesy of Blair) as the metal carrying plates clanged together and shattered, followed by a loud scream (courtesy of a fellow breakfast diner) as a deathly red stain slowly spread across the waiter's pristine uniform. Cell phones beeped as teenagers, students, middle aged woman, and even a few gay men texted Gossip Girl. No one bothered to call an ambulance.

"Uh, I don't know her, if anyone asks," Stated Dan.

He glanced at Blair. She chewed on with no sign of disturbance.

Dan frantically looked around again. Then glared back at Blair. She was still oblivious to the chaos around her, quietly and peacefully finishing her yogurt. She had rested the bloodstained knife next to the glass, both dripping a sickly red colour. Dan gingerly sat back down and cautiously continued to finish the rest of his breakfast. Blair was fine, until time came to finish the last yogurt.

"I can't get this open!!" She screeched.

She pulled harder.

With a gigantic explosion of red and white, the aluminum top ripped off, squirting red yogurt everywhere; frozen pieces of raspberry rained down on the diners like miniature atomic bombs.

Dan, the only clean one in a diameter of 100 metres, lowered the oversized napkin he had used as a shield. The furniture, floor, ceiling and even people were carpeted in more red yogurt than he would've thought was humanly possible to fit into the minute container. Blair was greedily gulping what remained of the red condiment, licking it clean.

"Yum, yum, YUM!" She gobbled, making chomping sounds.

Dan, who had enough, grabbed her hand and pushed his food away.

"We are gone," He hissed, stuffing what remained of his change into a passerby, urging him not to repeat what he saw as a witness.

He ran for the life of him, sprinting out the front gates with a cloud of smoke attached to his ass, showing people just how fast he wanted to get the hell out of there. Blair floated behind him, attached to his arm like a kite blowing in the breeze.

Oh well, the whole morning wasn't a bomb.

At least he had learned how to tip generously.

And how the refined, polished **really** eat brunch.


End file.
